


Another Monster

by BeastOfTheSea



Category: The Legend of Dragoon
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, I like making up dumb AUs for this canon, Oneshot, even if they hardly make sense, mildly self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeastOfTheSea/pseuds/BeastOfTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the absence of Dragoons, Charle has to make do. /AU/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Monster

The boy's black eyes are filled with hate.

Charle never expected anything else from him.

He's the final Wingly-made monster, a hasty creation built when a magic bolt tore him from the sky; Rose confided his weakness before the final battle, in case she died and her baby couldn't be controlled, and it proved true. They shot towards him before he even hit the ground. Pulled the soul from the disintegrating body, sealed it in as neat a package as one could wish, and stuffed it in an infant's body – their years of empire had trained them well in imitating Soa's tricks. Then they waited. Chewed their fingernails, kept an eye on the growing cult of the Moon Child, prayed their own weapon would be enough.

They'd rather be setting a Dragoon on this task, but the might of both the Winglies and the humans perished in that final battle. In her darker moments, Charle wonders if it all had been permitted as part of Soa's plan, a self-destructive victory to open the path for the final species – but she refuses to submit so easily. While life remains, there is hope.

"Do you understand what must be done?" she asks, ready to subdue the boy at a moment's notice, and he growls like the beast he is within his shell.

"Yes. The Moon Child must die. All followers, too. It'll be just like the old days." A muscle twitches in his jaw, and he snaps, "Why didn't you just leave me alive? I'd have killed it, eventually. Virages are my business. Mother always set me about that task. By the time it emerged –"

"By the time it emerged, not even you could have stopped it," Charle says in a tired voice, knowing he lacks the ability to comprehend. Extensive contact with Rose's mind taught him how to think. It couldn't teach him intellect any more than a dog could be taught to speak and walk on its hind paws.

In Aglis, they could have. But Aglis is lost to the sea, and it was a fate it richly deserved.

The boy _tsk_ s. He regards any commentary on the limitations of his power as ignorance. It's a delusion etched into his true species – and a fortunate one, for if he had the cunning of even an animal, he would never have exposed his weak point, and his armor would have been as impregnable as that of the Divine Dragon itself. Childlike stupidity…

She prays that hubris does not destroy him when it comes time to do his duty.

"Do you understand the entirety of your task?" she presses, and he nods irritably.

"Every hundred and eight years, I have to return to this," he recites. He turns his face to the side and peers at her strangely, as though he's expecting three eyes to swivel to point at her all at once. After a moment, he makes an ugly sound and merely cocks his head. "In-between, I die of boredom. Or will you kill me and store me up until then?"

It's not a bad idea, truth be told, but now is not the time to discuss it.

"Do you understand _why_ you must do it?"

The boy snorts. "Of course. If the God of Destruction destroys everything, there will be nothing left to destroy. And then the world will grow very boring."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Another. Three. She's set a monster to catch another monster, and she's not sure she has what will be needed to control it. Rose did, but she raised him from the first instant of awareness and had the power of the Darkness Dragoon to enforce her commands when he was inclined to disobey. Charle, in his eyes, is nothing but a pesky, controlling granny, one who understands nothing of the _old days_ when he ruined cities and tore simulacra of the final species to shreds by the dozens with nary a flicker of external restraint. And one who had him sealed down in an inferior, weak body so he _could_ be restrained, at that.

She makes a note to retrieve the Dragon Buster while he's out on his mission – just in case.

"Can you do it?"

He snarls, a ball of darkness flaring to life around him, and a moment later she has his answer – winged obsidian armor that covers him completely, six independently-swiveling ruby orbs mounted in his helm, and a fearsome set of interlocking spikes shielding his chest. It's not exactly a Dragoon's armor. But then again, he isn't exactly a human wielding a dragon's borrowed power, either.

Neither will his adversary exactly be an arrogant madman wielding a God's stolen power, either.

She gives him a conciliatory nod and raises her hand, giving the signal to briefly lift the shield around Uhara. "Good luck, Michael."

Deep in his throat he growls, no longer sounding human at all, and shoots off towards where the God of Destruction's incarnation holds court, thousands of miles away. All of Uhara shudders at the _boom_ as he blasts past the speed of sound; Charle sighs, her hands clamped over her ears as she bows her head, and turns away.

What she would give to have Rose here rather than her dragon.


End file.
